


Overcoming Static

by msraven



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Drunk!phil, First Time, Get Together, In Vino Veritas, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-18
Updated: 2013-03-18
Packaged: 2017-12-05 18:41:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/726581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/msraven/pseuds/msraven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, it not always the person who does the drinking that ends up confessing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Overcoming Static

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gwynhefar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gwynhefar/gifts).



> For Gwyn, who asked for Phil being insecure when Clint starts hanging out with someone he thinks may be better suited for him, followed by a fluffy resolution.
> 
> This doesn't quite fill your entire prompt because I couldn't quite make my muse go there (I tried!), but I hope it's enough for a partial fill.

“Here Barton, drink up. Party’s just getting started,” Stark says while pushing a black and tan into Clint’s hand.

Clint raises the glass in salute, but Phil can see the sudden tension in his shoulders and the tightening in his eyes. Clint doesn’t drink. Phil and Natasha know this, but it’s clear that the other Avengers do not. It’s also clear that Clint isn’t ready to share his past - and his constant fear of turning out like his father - with his newly formed team. Natasha is usually the one in charge of consuming Clint’s drinks in situations like this, but she’s currently in Belgrade on assignment and they haven’t had to deal with uncontrolled social situations in quite some time.

The other thing Phil knows is that Clint’s continued trust in him has been hard earned and something Phil cherishes more than he probably should. It doesn’t take much thought for Phil to step up and snag the pint glass out of Clint’s hand, raising it to his lips as he lets their eyes meet. Clint’s eyes widen in surprise before they soften and a small, grateful smile graces his features. Phil’s breath sticks in his chest for a second and he fights not to choke on the beer because it’s a smile he’s only seen a handful of times and one that most people wouldn’t expect from the cocky archer.

They spend the rest of the evening side-by-side, their conversation flowing as naturally as ever. Phil thinks he’s doing pretty well drinking both his drinks and Clint’s - he may not be Russian, but he’s at least a third Irish and grew up in Chicago - until Stark brings out the Jameson. By the end of the evening, Clint has to half-carry Phil out of the party as they stagger up to his room in the Tower.

“Not mine,” is the most coherent statement Phil can come up with when he realizes they’re now in Clint’s bedroom.

“You’re in no state to be left alone,” Clint says as he gently sits Phil down on the edge of the bed, “and I’m not driving you across town back to your apartment.”

Clint kneels down to take off Phil’s shoes and Phil can’t resist running a hand through the archer’s hair, letting it trail down to cup his jaw when Clint looks up at the touch.

“So beautiful,” Phil says wistfully and Clint’s eyes widen.

“How about you tell me that again in the morning when you’re sober and hopefully not throwing up into a trashcan?” Clint asks.

“Mmm’kay,” Phil mumbles and starts to list sideways until Clint stops him. 

“Whoa! Just give me a minute to get you out of your suit, okay?” Clint requests and Phil nods, doing his best not to fall over.

Clint strips Phil down to his undershirt and boxers before tucking him under the covers. Phil grabs his hand when Clint starts to move away. 

“Don’t go,” Phil pleads and a small warning goes off in the back of his head, telling him that letting all of his defenses drop around Clint is not a good idea. Then Clint smiles at Phil fondly while brushing some hair off his forehead and Phil pushes the warning away - he’s safe with Clint.

“I’m just going to get you a bottle of water,” Clint says. “I’ll be right back, I promise.”

“Mmm’kay,” Phil sighs happily and lets go of Clint’s hand. He dozes a little, but opens his eyes when he hears a rustle and sees Clint putting a bottle of water on the nightstand and plastic trashcan by the bed.

“Told you I’d come right back,” Clint says and sits on the edge of the bed next to Phil, who is curled on his side facing the archer. Clint runs his fingers gently through Phil’s hair once more before letting his hand come to rest on Phil’s shoulder. “Do you need anything else?”

“You,” Phil replies honestly and the hand on his shoulder twitches. 

“Coulson...”

“Please?” Phil begs, trying to get his brain to function a little less sluggishly. “Just sleep. You. Safe.”

Phil looks up at Clint and can see, even in his inebriated state, that Clint is struggling hard with his decision. Phil recalls how often he’s given in to Clint’s puppy-dog eyes and does his best to approximate the same look. Clint chuckles.

“Okay, okay,” Clint says with a grin, “don’t hurt yourself. That was pathetically cute.”

Phil pouts and Clint chuckles again as he stands and moves around to the other side of the bed. There’s a rustle of clothing and then the bed dips as Clint slips under the covers. Phil immediately rolls over until he’s got his head pillowed on Clint’s chest and an arm wrapped around his waist. He pouts again when he realizes that Clint is still wearing his undershirt - Phil knows from all their ops together that Clint typically sleeps in just his boxers.

“Jeez, Coulson,” Clint says stiffly, “you don’t play fair. Just...don’t throw up on me, okay?”

Phil’s nod turns into him nuzzling against Clint’s chest and he feels the archer’s swift intake of air. Phil sighs happily when Clint wraps his arm around Phil’s back and starts rubbing soothingly up and down his side.

“Mmmm....nice,” Phil mumbles, sleep tugging at him. 

“Shhh...go to sleep, Phil.”

Phil sighs again and is just about asleep when the lovely feeling of Clint brushing his lips against the top of Phil’s head re-engages his brain as it tries to memorize the sensation.

“You don’t even know what you’re doing, do you Phil?” Clint whispers into the quiet of the room. He moves his other arm until he has them both wrapped around Phil. “Every time I think I’m getting over you, you do something awesome, like tonight, and I’m back to square one. I just wish you didn’t need to be drugged or drunk to...I guess it doesn’t really matter, does it?”

Clint doesn’t say anything else and Phil lets himself be lulled to sleep by the warmth and safety offered by the strong arms wrapped around him.

~*~*~*~*~

Phil wakes a few hours later to a pounding headache and a full bladder. He unwraps his arm from around Clint’s waist and rolls out of the bed. Clint had left one of the smaller lights on and Phil gratefully follows it to the bathroom where he relieves his bladder and swishes some mouthwash to help clear the cottony feeling in his mouth. He makes his way back to the bed, takes some of the ibuprofen Clint has left on the nightstand, and downs some water before crawling back under the covers. He returns to his previous position at Clint’s side and is asleep again almost instantly after the archer’s arm slides around him.

Another few hours later and Phil blinks his eyes open feeling much more clear-headed. One of the benefits of Phil’s genetics is that he rarely wakes up with a hangover. One of the downsides is that he clearly remembers every instant of the night before. Phil should be embarrassed about how he acted, but he’s too busy thinking about what Clint said just before they fell asleep. He sits up so he can look down at the archer, knowing from the few occasions Phil has had to call on Clint in the early morning that he sleeps soundly when not on an op. 

Phil trails his fingers along Clint’s cheek and jaw, reveling in how peaceful he looks in sleep. Clint’s eyes flutter open and look up at Phil groggily before he blinks a few times to clear them.

“Morning,” Clint says tentatively.

Phil cups Clint’s jaw with his hand and decides that it’s time for a long-awaited conversation. “Why are you trying to get over me?” he asks without preamble. 

Clint’s eyes go comically wide and he tries to pull away, but Phil’s hand keeps him where he is. Clint closes his eyes tight instead.

“Why couldn’t you have been passed out like a normal drunk?” Clint complains.

“Clint...” Phil prods gently until Clint opens his eyes again.

“Can we, I don’t know, have this conversation when we’re both wearing pants and I’m not in desperate need to take a leak?” Clint asks.

“No,” Phil responds, “I think we’re more likely to have this conversation when we have less of our armor on, don’t you think?”

“Can I at least use the bathroom?” Clint asks and Phil pretends to ponder his answer until Clint laughs and shoves at him.

“No sneaking out the bathroom window,” Phil warns.

“I only did that once,” Clint points out as he gets out of the bed. “I’ve already apologized for running away from you and we’re what? Forty stories up?”

“Like either of us believes that the height would stop you,” Phil argues, causing Clint to pause mid-way to the bathroom and shrug in agreement.

Phil repositions himself to sit against the headboard and pats the space next to him on the bed encouragingly when Clint emerges from the bathroom. Clint’s hair is sleep-mussed and he smells of mint from, Phil assumes, taking the time to brush his teeth while in the bathroom. Phil has the sudden desire to experience this Clint every morning and hopes this conversation goes the way he wants it to.

Clint matches Phil’s position with his legs under the covers and Phil turns slightly so he can look Clint in the eye.

“Why are you trying to get over me?” Phil repeats and Clint lets out a full-body sigh.

“Because it really sucks when you’re stupidly attracted to someone and they don’t feel the same way,” Clint says and it’s Phil’s turn to be surprised.

“Why would you think I’m not attracted to you?” Phil asks. “I’d have to be one of Stark’s bots not to be attracted to you and, even then, I’m pretty sure JARVIS has a crush on you.”

Clint’s brow furrows. “If that’s supposed to make me feel better, it doesn’t. You said it yourself that you’re not interested in me.”

“When did I say anything of the sort?” 

“Bogata,” Clint responds. “You made it very clear that night how you felt about me.”

“Wait! What?” Phil says incredulously. “That was seven years ago and you haven’t been under my direct supervision for almost three years now.”

“What the hell does your being my handler have to do with anything?” Clint asks. “Your exact words were, ‘This is never happening, Barton. You and I both know this can’t go further.’ It sounded pretty obvious to me that you weren’t interested.”

Phil can still clearly remember that night - Clint’s bare chest glistening in the moonlight and eyes filled with desire as they’d looked at Phil. He’d wanted nothing more than to sink into Clint’s kiss, but SHIELD had frat regs for a reason and Phil didn’t want that hanging over their heads. Phil honestly doesn’t remember what he said, only the pressing need to get away before he gave into temptation.

“You wouldn’t even look at me for a week,” Clint accuses and Phil winces.

“I couldn’t,” Phil confesses. “Do you have any idea how tempting that was? To finally know how you tasted and not be able to do anything about it? It took me a full week to be able to look at you and not go half hard thinking about that kiss.”

“I thought...” Clint says looking down at his hands. “I assumed I’d turned you off somehow. Figured you weren’t interested in me that way.”

Phil grabs Clint’s hands until he looks up again. “I have never, not for one second since I first met you, not been attracted to you. There has never been a day after that kiss that I didn’t regret not being able to continue it.”

“If your being my handler was the reason you held back, then why didn’t you say anything after?” Clint asks. 

“This is going to sound pretty cliched,” Phil forewarns, “but we were friends, you trusted me, and I didn’t want to lose that - didn’t want to risk it. Plus you never hinted again that you wanted something more.”

“I thought I repulsed you!” Clint protests.

“I know that now,” Phil corrects, “but I didn’t then.” He takes a deep breath and decides to confess it all. “Then the whole thing with Loki happened and you were there every day at Medical and helped throughout my recovery. I started to think that maybe there was something more than friendship underneath it all.”

“You’ve been back on active duty for months,” Clint points out. “Why haven’t you said anything?”

“Henderson,” Phil replies.

“What does Kris have to do with anything?” Clint asks and Phil frowns a little at how easily the other agent’s name rolls out of Clint when he still rarely calls Phil anything other than Coulson or sir.

“Do you really have to ask?” Phil says. “He’s gorgeous - you two are gorgeous together. He’s one of our top snipers, you have similar backgrounds as mercs, you guys are constantly laughing at each other’s antics at HQ, and I know you’ve gone to a few games together. Even _I_ can see that he’s perfect for you, Clint.”

Clint tilts his head and looks utterly confused. “I have no idea why you would think that. Kris is a friend, yeah. He was one of the few agents that didn’t run away from me after the whole Loki thing. It’s better now with the others, but having Kris around has really helped. We’re buddies, that’s all.”

“Are you saying he’s never showed any interest in you beyond friendship?” Phil asks and isn’t surprised when Clint shakes his head.

“Well...no. He did try to kiss me once,” Clint replies, “but I told him I wasn’t interested in him like that and we moved on as just friends.”

“That’s my point, Clint,” Phil argues and tells himself that he cares more about Clint’s overall well being than he does about his own, envious heart. “You _should_ be interested in Kris like that. You’re good together. He’s young and extremely attractive and you have a lot in common. I’m just...”

“You’re just what?” Clint asks with a frown.

“I’m rapidly approaching middle-age, I’m at best decent looking, I recently had to have my heart and lungs pieced back together, and I spend most of my time babysitting a group of grown men. I’m far from anyone’s dream man,” Phil responds candidly.

“You’re also an idiot if you believe any of that,” Clint concludes. “You’re far from old and I’m not that much younger than you. I saw you test back in, so I know you can still kick anyone’s ass in SHIELD - including mine. It would take me less than an hour to get at least several hundred signatures of people who think you’re sexy as hell and you’re the only one that this dysfunctional group of superheroes _respects_ well enough to listen to. As for your heart...”

Clint looks away and closes his eyes. “They let me think for six hours that you were dead. It was the worst six hours of my life, so any second with you alive, patchwork heart and all, is a million times better than the alternative.”

Phil doesn’t bother saying anything else. He reaches over with two fingers at Clint’s jaw to turn his face back and kisses him gently, letting the touch of his lips convey what Phil can’t put into words.

“Phil...” Clint sighs against his lips and leans closer until their chests are pressed together.

Phil pulls Clint closer until the archer is fully in his lap and deepens the kiss with a groan. Clint kisses back with abandon as Phil slips his hands under Clint’s shirt to roam over his back, finally touching all those glorious muscles that bunch and tense as the archer writhes above him.

“No pants was definitely the way to go,” Clint smirks, pulling his shirt off and then doing the same with Phil’s. 

Clint pauses for a second to trail a finger thoughtfully down Phil’s scar before surging back up for another toe-curling kiss. Phil manages to shimmy down the bed until he’s laying back down with Clint above him and they both groan as their hips line up. It’s fast and messy with zero finesse, but after close to a decade of build-up, they’re helpless to do more than rut against one another as they swallow each other’s gasps and moans with kiss after kiss.

“Well,” Phil says after he can finally string enough brain cells together to formulate words, “if your goal was to make me feel like a teenager coming in my shorts...”

Clint laughs and leans back a little to look down at Phil. “Mission accomplished?”

“Most definitely accomplished,” Phil says, reaching up for a kiss before making a face at the mess they’ve made. “How about a shower, followed by breakfast, and then we can try that again as if we were actually experienced adults?”

Clint lets out another laugh and Phil can’t help his own grin. It’s rare for Clint to look this carefree and happy, even around Phil and Natasha. Clint braces his hands on either side of Phil to lever himself up, but doesn’t move. Instead, the archer looks down at Phil and his eyes suddenly go serious. 

“I know that immediately after sex isn’t the best time to say this for the first time, but...I love you Phil,” Clint says and Phil is overwhelmed by the sincerity and affection brimming from the younger man.

“We’ll just have to keep repeating it for the rest of our lives, then,” Phil suggests with a smile. “Because I love you too, Clint.” 

Phil pulls Clint down for another kiss. The mess can wait.

_fin_


End file.
